Translution
by Alphabet Pie
Summary: The friendless geek Even falls in love with a gorgeous and witty girl on the internet... only to realise that she isn't quite what she seemed. Lumaira/Even. Tranvestitism, and I just ruined the whole plot.
1. Stranger Danger

Nobody liked Even.  
In fact, nobody liked Even so much that even Even didn't like Even, which was a curious thing because Even knew - and often let everybody else know - that he was better than everybody else.  
Even supposed that his attempts to claim superiority over others was simply a mask that he held to his face to hide the fact that of all the things he hated, he hated himself the most.  
Even was not pretty. Even was lanky and awkward, Even was bespectacled with braces and greasy hair, Even wore ankleswingers and sweatervests. Even was such a nerd he was a cliché. Even his little sister Nami hated him and rejected him like a sort of mistake that she didn't quite know how she had come to burden.  
_Yeah. Sisters. Gotta love them._  
Even Even's friends, Ienzo and Aeleus, preferred other companies to his. He was infuriating in his pedantry and perfectionism, his inability to admit when he was wrong, his terrible temper...  
Even Myde, who liked _everybody_, did his best to avoid Even; when the class was paired up for projects, Even worked alone.

If there was one person who hated Even more than himself, it was Lumaira. The boy - although nobody was ever quite sure whether he really was one or not - delighted in infuriating Even just to see his eyes twitch behind his thick-rimmed glasses and his fists clench as he tried - and more often than not failed - to keep his anger in check. Even hated Lumaira back just as much. He was everything Even loathed and envied; pretty, charismatic, popular, stylish...

The only place where Even had friends was the internet. He frequented chat rooms and MSN, used his natural eloquence in writing to his advantage as he slowly collected the friends he knew he'd never have in person. He wrote journals commenting on all kinds of things and even gathered a little following of people all over the world, commenting and communicating with him from hundreds of miles away. For every person that hated him in real life, Even had a friend in words on a computer screen. Some closer than others.

Even didn't remember when he'd first met AI Mural. She was frequently on late at night, a witty and intelligent girl who had an anecdote for everything and a few nice words to say whenever Even was down. He lost count of the number of times he'd stayed up late to the point of early just talking to her about the most stupid of little things - but somehow he revelled in everything she said, every little smiley emote as she laughed at his idle comments.  
She was a writer, mainly; she wrote all sorts of things from poetry to prose - some more amorous than others - and Even, shameful to admit, loved her style and even the characters about which she wrote. He half suspected that two of them - two boys named Marluxia and Vexen who featured frequently in her writings - were based on him and Mural, but he didn't call her up on it. Considering the things that they did with each other, it seemed a little... forward...

With each day that he had to suffer the likes of Lumaira's company, Mural made everything worth it. It wasn't long before he realised that he'd fallen in love. He didn't even know how that was possible but he had, completely, utterly and helplessly. He confessed to her one evening and she'd totally understood - and even returned his affections. Thus began their first tentative steps into flirtation and courting, role playing with words their romantic dates and, eventually, even sexual encounters. Mural had the ability to make Vexen's blood race and his head spin - and he hoped that maybe he had the same effect on her.

They always talked about meeting up but both were somewhat evasive on the subject - Even always feared that his real life body and personality wouldn't be good enough compared to his projected internet persona, and he figured that Mural would have felt the same way. But he still, secretly, wanted to meet her, be closer than just words on a screen, hold her close in his real arms, kiss her real lips...

Summer arrived, and Even found himself spending every waking moment with her. He didn't know how often he'd got himself off in front of the lap top screen, hiding under his bedding in the depths of the night as she did the same, and over and over they confessed their love. She shared his elation as, finally, his braces came off, suggested that he buy straighteners to combat the frizz that plagued his hair, supported his choice to move onto contacts instead of glasses.

One morning, straighteners in hand, Even found himself staring at a stranger in the mirror. He'd never really noticed how clear his skin was, or the brightness his eyes - before always hidden by thick rimmed glasses. As he fitted on a new pastel blue shirt and jeans that fitted his wide hips snugly, he didn't feel ugly. He didn't feel hatred towards the boy always glaring back at him through the reflective glass.  
Even didn't hate Even any more.

From that day on, he pressed for a meeting. He already knew that they lived in the same country, and it transpired that they could both reach the nearest city with relative ease. As the end of the summer holidays neared, they set a date, a time, a place.

Mural sent him a picture, a few days before their big meeting. Soft pink hair tumbled around her admittedly boyish - but no less beautiful - face, her blue eyes framed by thick black eyelashes and her lips drawn into a playful pout. The face seemed familiar, but Even couldn't put his finger on it. He didn't feel the need to - she was the most gorgeous girl he had ever seen and he had no qualms in telling her that.

The train journey there on the day was a long one. Even's heart refused to beat slowly as he stepped onto the platform and made his way to the nearest park. They'd booked a hotel room in the area to give them both more time together, and Even was almost bursting with anticipation as he picked out a pink haired individual sitting a little way away on a bench. she was wearing a gorgeous little jacket the same shade as her hair, and a skirt over jeans. Her head was bowed, writing.  
Even hurried over.  
"Mural?"  
She looked up, and, seeing him, horror filled her made up features.  
Not _her_ features. _His_.  
It was Lumaira. In girls' clothes.  
"Even?" He choked out.  
"Lu-Lumaira?"  
Lumaira shook his head.  
"No. You are _not_ him. You are not that gorgeous guy that I fell in love with. Not you. I won't allow it."  
"You are not AI Mural," Even replied, words equally barbed.  
Lumaira rolled his eyes, snapping the notepad shut with an irritated huff.  
"Anagram the name, you idiot."  
Even clenched his fists, turning away. He couldn't believe it. Mural didn't even exist; she was just some sick fantasy that Lumaira had conjured up.  
"I'm going home."  
"Wait," Lumaira said quietly. Even spun back.  
"What?!"  
"You.. You won't tell anyone, right? That I'm.. you know. A transvestite."  
"You practically are at school anyway," Even snapped.  
"I mean it," Lumaira pressed, painted fingernails digging into his knees. "I'd die if anyone found out."  
"Good," Even hissed angrily, preparing to stalk off. He was stopped by a short sob.  
"I'm being _serious_. Damn it, I thought I'd finally found somebody who loved me for who I really was. Or rather who I wanted to be."  
Even froze, slowly turning one-eighty to face the crying boy again.  
"Yeah. Me too."  
Lumaira laughed bitterly.  
"I can't believe it's _you_."  
"I can't believe that I really thought that you were a girl," Even retorted.  
Lumaira glanced up briefly; his mascara had run down his cheeks where he'd been crying.  
"You don't half look gorgeous like that," He murmured reproachfully, then looked back at his book. "I won't tell anybody at school if you don't."  
Against his better judgement, Even came over and sat next to Lumaira.  
"If it's any consolation I think that the pink hair suits you. Inspired by Marluxia, right?"  
Lumaira chuckled.  
"Yeah. And he was always so obsessed with you- with Vexen."  
"And he never had the displeasure of finding out that Vexen was actually the bratty nerd at school,"  
Lumaira sighed apologetically, tentatively leaning his head against Even's shoulder.  
"Did you really mean all those things you said? About me being a really sweet girl, and liking all my work?"  
"Of course I did," Even replied. "What about you?"  
"I thought you were the most amazing person I'd ever met."  
They were both silent for a few minutes, lost in the horrifying realisation that they'd both inadvertently fallen in love with the one person that they truthfully hated the most.  
"So," Lumaira said after a while. "Do you wanna try anyway?"  
Even glared at him incredulously, and Lumaira hung his head again.  
"That was a stupid question, wasn't it."  
"I'm not even gay," Even pointed out.  
"You quite liked all my gay writing," Lumaira replied petulantly.  
"That was different."  
"Can't you... I dunno, just pretend that I have boobs, or something? You said yourself that I was practically a girl. On several occasions, I might add."  
"What, so you can make out with, and I quote, "a lanky, ugly, bug eyed geek who doesn't know the meaning of personal hygiene"?"  
Lumaira grit his teeth.  
"You've changed," He muttered quietly. "Look, I didn't know it was _you_. I'm sorry, okay? You look really pretty without those horrible glasses and your hair all nice like that,"  
Just to prove his point, he reached up and let a lock of Even's hair slide through his fingers. Even couldn't help himself and, unused to such upfront compliments - and never from a boy - coloured slightly.  
"You make a good girl," He replied bashfully. Lumaira, also apparently surprised, looked up. Of course, those deep blue eyes should have been unmistakable.  
"Thanks."  
And he sighed a little, fiddling with his hair.  
Even sighed too, casting a glance at Lumaira. He really was beautiful, if a little alien in his feminine clothes and make up. And he was still AI Mural, even if she had turned out to be a boy.  
"So do you want to try anyway?"  
Lumaira looked up again, eyes in an intense glare.  
"I never thought I would be saying this to you of all people," He said slowly. "But you have no idea how hard I want you to fuck me."  
"What, _me_?"  
"Yes, you, you adorable moron. Come on,"

When their mouths crashed together, and their bodies, and their clothes were lost somewhere in the hotel room, it didn't even make a difference that Lumaira wasn't female, and when they snuck around each other's houses in the middle of the night just to do dirty things to each other, when they played at hatred in school just to keep the rumours at bay, it made no difference at all.  
Nobody liked Even.

Except Lumaira.


	2. Prom Queen, Drag Queen

"You spin my head right round, right round, when you go down, when you go down, down..."

Soft velveteen fabric slipped over bare shoulders and a flat chest, rustling as it settled onto narrow hips and formed folds around the nape of a bony neck.

"From the top of the pole, I watch her go down, she got me throwing my money around...."

There was a delightful little _swoosh_ as Lumaira spun on his heel to carefully inspect himself in the mirror.

"Ain't nothing more beautiful to be found. Heh."

His hair was pink again, pulled into delicate ringlets that just brushed his shoulders, fringe dead straight and hanging in his made-up eyes. The dress - damn it, it had taken him a long time to find the perfect dress - was a deep magenta colour, frilled at the collar just to cover the fact that he had no breasts, was deliberately flattering of his boyish frame.

Lumaira pouted a little, adjusting the dress until it both felt comfortable and looked good. As good as a dress could look on a man, at any rate.

"Lumaira. You," He said very seriously to himself as he brushed his fingers across the reflection in the mirror, "Are a freak."

And then he sat down on his bed and let a little sob bubble from his throat. He wanted to call up Even, but the boy would be having enough of his own problems getting ready for the big night without Lumaira piling on his anxiety too.

It wasn't like he was worried about Even seeing him like this - even though he didn't know. Nobody knew that Lumaira had saved up all his money to buy a prom dress, leaving the smart suit his parents had helped him choose hanging uselessly in the wardrobe.

He wasn't even terribly worried about his friends seeing him in drag. Well, he was, but it all paled in insignificance to the fact that, in five minutes or so, his _mother_ was going to pop in to check on his progress and find her own son wearing a dress.

_A dress._

With two minutes to go he caved, pulled the thing off and changed into the tuxedo instead. It felt all wrong. He glanced back at the beautiful little dress, at his reflection, then to the dress again. He felt like that guy with the red pill and the blue pill, like he was at the crossroads of his life.

_Wear the tux, you're stuck being the wrong gender forever. Wear the dress, and you're a freak._

He was overcome by the urge to throw something, _anything_, and in a fit of anger he grabbed the dress and flung it at the mirror. It crumpled uselessly to the floor, just like all of his dreams.

"Lumaira, sweetie? Are you okay up there?"

He hissed angrily, clenching and unclenching his fists. Tears pricked at the sides of his eyes, but he couldn't cry. Not now, not now. He'd mess up his mascara.

"I'm fine,"

"You don't need any help, do you?"

"_I'm fine_."

This was the only chance he was ever going to get to come out to his parents, he told himself sternly. He'd have to tell them one day and it would do no good just to keep pretending he was normal, day after day after day. He carefully undid the tie, pulled it from his neck, and unbuttoned his shirt.

"Lumaira?"

He pulled his trousers down and slowly stepped out, folding them neatly on the dresser.

"I'm just coming, mum,"

He picked the dress up again and shrugged it over his shoulders. Tugged it into the perfect position. Pulled on those gorgeous matching heels. Fixed his make up one last time, grabbed his handbag. Swallowed thickly, and braced himself for whatever reaction his family might have.

The walk downstairs seemed to take forever, the silence deafening as he rounded the little corner into the hallway.

He grit his teeth as they stared.

Stared.

It was his mother who spoke first, tone almost apologetic in its insincerity.

"Lumaira. I think we need to have a little talk."

"Yeah," He just about managed to force out, glancing at his father, then at the floor. _God_, he felt stupid. The pinpricks of tears threatened again, heavier around his painted eyelashes.

His mother took his hand and led him away into the kitchen, as his father simply stared.

_Stared_.

"So," His mother said. He couldn't meet her eye.

"So what?"

"Lumaira, we bought a lovely suit for you. Why aren't you wearing it?"

Lumaira coughed to disguise another sob, and didn't reply.

"Is this some kind of bet with your friends? Because I don't find it very funny."

Still he was silent, clutching at the hem of his dress.

"Don't you want to look good for your prom?"

"Of course I do," He muttered in reply, closely inspecting the silky folds and creases around his knees. Of course he did. But he also wanted to look himself. Whatever that was.

"I'll go get the suit. You don't have to look ridiculous like that. That's just cruel. Who put you up to that? L'Erena?"

Lumaira curled up on himself. He looked _ridiculous_. He looked like some kind of sick _idiot_, and his mum thought that he was a _joke_, and he wanted to curl up in a hole and die, or preferably strip naked and have hot, steamy sex with Even in the shower.

... But that probably wasn't an option right now.

"Lumaira, you don't have to ruin your prom for some silly bet," His mother was continuing obliviously as if this was supposed to make him feel better or even console him in the slightest.

"It wasn't a bet," Lumaira admitted.

"You can be honest with me, Lumaira, sweetheart,"

"I _am_. I want to wear a dress. I _like_ dresses."

"Lumaira," His mother repeated, her voice teetering dangerously on the edge of anger, or worse, disappointment.

"I _like_ being girly."

"There's a lovely suit waiting for you upstairs..."

"I want to wear the _dress_!" Lumaira yelled, for a split second unable to keep his temper in check. Horrified at his reaction - he'd never shouted at either of his parents before - he clamped his hand over his mouth, mumbling muffled apologies, eyes wide. Hot tears stung at his cheeks, rolled across his fingers and with each one he felt the horrible flare of shame bite at his stomach.

His mother took a deep breath, clearly unsure of what to say.

"I need to speak to your father about this," She finally said, and disappeared.

Lumaira hiccuped sorrowfully, and hesitated for a brief second before wiping away the worst of his make up from his face, evaluating himself in the reflection on the oven door, and slipping out of the back door into the evening air. Climbing the gate was interesting with heels, and eventually he simply pulled them off and flung them over before climbing over himself. He was going to look a wreck.

He half walked, half ran a little way down his road before fishing out his phone and flipping it open. He didn't have his jacket, and already his bare arms, legs and shoulders were bristling with the cold.

"L'Erena?"

"Hey babe. 'Sup?"

"I need a lift to the prom."

"I thought your mum was taking you,"

"Yeah. We... we had an argument."

"You don't sound so good."

"I don't look so good, either," Lumaira replied as he walked briskly along the next road, hoping that to the few cars that passed he looked sufficiently feminine to not draw too many weird looks.

"Where'd you need picking up?" L'Erena, who had her own car, asked.

"I'll be at the park in a few minutes."

"Kay. I'll be there."

"Thanks."

The car - L'Erena's dad's, a flashy Jag - was waiting at the side of the road and Lumaira quickly hurried over and slipped into the passenger seat.

"Don't even ask," He said as he flicked the in-car light on and began fixing up his face in the mirror in the sun screen.

L'Erena whistled a little.

"Who bet you to do that, and how much were they offering?"

Lumaira bit his lip again, choking back another harsh sob. So this was how everybody was going to act? Just think it was all a joke and laugh it off?

"Nobody bet me," He said quietly, ruining his make up again and having to start again. "Nobody bet me, I'm wearing this because I like it. You don't have any waterproof mascara, do you? If I'm going to be bursting into tears every five minutes I don't want to have to be fixing my face up again every time."

L'Erena said nothing as she pulled over to the side of the road. Once the car had stopped, she flipped up her seatbelt and climbed over the gear stick to sit on Lumaira's lap and wrap her arms around him.

"You could have told me that you were a cross dresser," She said softly, and softly was not something that L'Erena did.

"I'm not," Lumaira explained. "I'm not. I'm a _girl_. I just got stuck with the wrong fucking body,"

"Oh."

"And only Even knows-"

"Even? _Nerd_ Even?"

"I've been dating him in secret for two years. Three if you include the period when we didn't realise that we were each other on the internet."

L'Erena slowly climbed off Lumaira and stoically rummaged around in her own bag, throwing a mascara at him.

"So much for being best friends."

Lumaira's guts twisted uncomfortably. He was already in deep shit with his parents, now L'Erena was going to abandon him too? What next, was Even going to dump him for making a big fuss at the prom and embarrassing the hell out of him?

... That possibility was all too likely, and suddenly the tuxedo seemed like a very good idea indeed.

"I'm sorry," He mumbled. "How about I just go home right now."

"This was Even's idea?" L'Erena asked, ignoring Lumaira's suggestion.

"Even doesn't know," Lumaira hissed. "Even doesn't know. Even doesn't know that I wanted to be seen with him in public for once. Even doesn't _know_... Oh fuck, I was going to ruin his prom. Oh, fuck... I want to go home."

He picked his legs up and curled around his knees, sobbing. Why had he even thought that this was a good idea? What on Earth had possessed him to think that it would be a good idea to go to his _prom_ in a _dress_?

"Why didn't you tell me?" L'Erena asked, tapping her fingers against the wheel. When Lumaira spluttered miserably again, she sighed. "Look, Lulu, I'm not mad. I just wish you'd told me. I could have done your make up, and your hair. We could have gone prom dress shopping together."

Lumaira looked up.

"R-really?"

L'Erena smiled gently at him.

"Yeah. Look, sorry, I could have taken that better. I just didn't think you were serious at first. It was a bit of a shock. Come on, let's go back to my house and I'll fix you up. You look a mess."

Lumaira looked back and nodded, trying to collect himself, but the tears of worry just kept spilling over his cheeks. What were his parents going to say when he got home tomorrow? What would _Even_ say? He was silent as L'Erena drove them home, bundled him out of the car and upstairs into her bedroom.

"We've got twenty minutes," She said, first and foremost finding a plaster for the nasty scratch Lumaira had given himself climbing over the gate. Then she washed his entire face clean of make up, and began again with a thin layer of foundation, then blush and lipstick before beginning work on his eyes.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this for," She commented as she applied eye shadow to match the dress.

"What, give me a makeover?"

"Yeah. Why didn't you tell me you were a tranny?"

Lumaira truthfully didn't know. It was just something that he'd never told anybody - except Even, and the people on the internet who truthfully thought that he was female - and L'Erena was no exception.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," L'Erena said, ruffling his hair as he pouted seductively at her. "But honestly. Even?"

"He's cute. In a mad scientist kind of a way."

"Right."

L'Erena didn't seem at all convinced, but she let it slide as she added a few finishing touches of waterproof mascara to Lumaira's new image.

"You look gorgeous, babe,"

"I don't believe you," Lumaira replied petulantly. He wondered what he'd been expecting his parents' reaction to be, because it had shattered his already minimal confidence and he wasn't sure if he could face walking in one everybody in drag no matter what L'Erena said.

"If you look better than me I'm not going to let you go," L'Erena replied pleasantly, and disappeared off to get changed herself. A few minutes later she returned in a gorgeous black low-backed ankle length dress that perfected every curve in her body and sparkled like midnight.

Lumaira was truthfully jealous.

"What do you think?"

"You look like a fallen angel."

L'Erena laughed.

"Let's go."

They chattered as L'Erena drove them to the venue of the prom, and Lumaira found himself forced to reveal all the details about Even - how Lumaira had first found solace on chat rooms and MSN under the screen name AI Mural, about meeting and falling in love with this cute guy called Even_Is_Odd, and only discovering when they met up that it was _that_ Even, and then falling in love all over again.

But thankfully, before they got onto the topic of exactly _why_ Lumaira was so good at typing one-handed, L'Erena drew up in the car park and opened the door for him to help him out.

Suddenly he was overcome with nerves - what if Even really _was_ horrified by people seeing him with a transvestite? What if he left him? What if, what if, _what if_?

"I don't think I can do this," He quietly admitted to L'Erena. She companionably rubbed his bare shoulder with her most encouraging smile.

"Sure you can. I'm right behind you, girlfriend,"

Girlfriend, Lumaira thought dizzily. _Girl_friend.

He stepped out of the car and, hand in hand with L'Erena, walked up to the gaping double doors of the glitzy hotel.

For a few horrible seconds as concrete turned to red carpet, everybody stared.

_Stared_.

But Lumaira kept his head high and his balance perfect as he walked right in with L'Erena by his side. He heard around him whispers in the hushed silence as he plucked out Even with his gaze.

"Who _is_ that?"

"Damn, she's sexy."

"You idiot! It's Lumaira!"

"What?! No way, he looks like a girl!"

"Fucking _hell_..."

He broke free of L'Erena's grasp, confidence growing with each murmur of surprise, confession and compliment. Even Even - oblivious at the best of times - had looked up now, expression one of pure surprise.

He gave Even an urgent look. _Is this okay? Am I okay?_

People realised were Lumaira was heading even before Even took his first tentative steps closer, and the whispers only intensified, darting back and forth between the assembled crowd. Lumaira dared to swing his hips a little, and _swish, swish_ went the silky fabric of the dress. People were clearing the way for him; everybody was staring. He was torn between elation and terror, so pumped with adrenaline that he visibly shivered as Even's cold hands brushed against his bare arms. Neither of them stopped as they simply walked into each other and a crushing embrace, lips pressed together like nothing could tear them apart.

Even was melting under the spotlight and so was Lumaira, but the other students were the ones who simply dissolved into insignificance as they kissed, again and again.

"You look amazing," Even breathed once they pulled apart. "You look more beautiful than any other girl in this room,"

Lumaira smiled, genuinely, for the first time since he'd put the dress on. Suddenly everything just felt _right_, like this was what he was born to do. Even if the others couldn't decide which was more weird, that two guys who apparently hated each other were suddenly kissing each other, or that one of them was actually posing as a girl.

From that moment on, the evening couldn't have been more perfect. Lumaira flitted like a real gossipy girl between all the groups and couples just as much as they were drawn to him, Even a little awkwardly posed on his arm. Far from the horrified stares or laughter that he'd predicted, people wanted to _know_. How long had Lumaira been cross dressing for? When did they start going out? So it was them who Myde heard making out in the school toilets last year, wasn't it?

And when they _danced_... Well, neither of them knew how to dance but that didn't matter because they were together, and the whole world didn't matter as they were captured by each other's gazes.

Even as they settled down with drinks around tables, Lumaira could feel the buzz in every cell in his body. This was how it always should have been. The utter rejection from his parents was all but forgotten.

"And then we decided to-"

"Shh! They're about to announce the prom king and queen!"

Silence descended over the whole year as everybody turned to the stage where one of the teachers was waving a little gold envelope.

"If it's me, I will die of laughter," Lumaira, who was comfortably curled up on Even's lap, giggled. Even murmured something along the lines of "That wouldn't do at all," And nibbled on his ear until he gave in and leaned up to kiss back.

"First of all, this year's prom king is.... Isa Lune!"

There were cheers from the tall, stoic boy's fanclub as he grinned as his defeated companions Lea and Myde and waltzed up to the stage. Like it wasn't obvious that one of the _Flaming Ocean_ boys was going to win that prize, L'Erena thought.

"And this year's prom _queen_ is none other than the gorgeous and sparky L'Erena Valkyrie!"

Lumaira was quick to shove his best friend off her chair to join Isa on the stage as there were catcalls and cheers from the male crowd.

"Would either of you like to make a speech?" The teacher asked, and Isa was the first to take the microphone.

"I told you I was sexier, Myde, Lea," The drummer began to the raucous "boo!"s of his friends. "No, seriously. Thanks for voting me, guys. Yes, I'm looking at you, Norty. I know you secretly have the hots for me."

As everybody stared at Xehanort, the boy that Isa had pointed out, Isa passed the mike to L'Erena.

She knew what she was going to say.

"Yeah, thank and all that," She began. "But you know what? I don't think you chose the right girl to be prom queen. 'Cus who better to choose for the title than a real queen?"

She gestured to her best friend, grinning.

"I'm talking about you, Lulu. Come on up, you deserve to be up here just as much of any of us girls,"

Everybody was cheering as Lumaira peeled himself away from Even and tottered onto the stage.

Cheering.

At _him_.

"And," L'Erena, by no means finished yet, "I think we should have an extra prom king as well, not for the sexiest guy in your year but for the most improved. Who thought that the geeky, obnoxious kid we all dreaded sitting next to in class could turn out to be such a blonde bombshell, _Even_?"

Before he had a chance to run away, Lumaira had dashed down and forcibly dragged a beetroot-red Even onto the stage.

As Isa and L'Erena put together their collective genius to make makeshift crowns out of the golden envelope, the evening couldn't have been more perfect. And the night just kept on getting better as the dress came off, mouths and tongues crashed together, legs were drawn up and Lumaira was made complete again and again.

"I love you, Lulu,"

"I love you too."


End file.
